Timeless
by Piriluk
Summary: To earn your wings, you have to come to terms with it. How? In what way? Just because you might think you're now okay, it's always that somewhere deep in your heart, you still wish it was different. It's easy for those who don't remember what happened. But I do. And I can't be okay with it. So I'm stuck this way forever. / RinxLen / pls R&R


*Morgan Freeman voice* I HAVE A DREAM.

(Or well, to be more precise, I _had_ a dream, which I'll further elaborate on after this wall of poorly written text.)

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><p>I don't remember much of the last time that I truly breathed.<p>

It seems like a long, lost, forgotten memory; faraway, like a dream. Was I really that girl? Did I really live that life? Did I have those aspirations, did I know those people? It feels like I've been this way forever.

You know—dead.

That day, that fateful day—the only thing I can really recall, apart from the jumbled, useless information that may have stuck with me as I 'passed over'. Nothing left were happy memories. Sometimes I wish I couldn't remember anything at all, like Len.

It was on that day. I was standing, waiting, sweat-clad in my school uniform amongst the heated crowd of strangers too busy on their phones to care otherwise. I don't remember my surroundings, but I can already imagine it: the sunset-painted sky overhead that's almost impossible to see through the high-rises and air pollution, the sounds of a million voices and the rush-hour traffic echoing through the city, the bright, white striped lines on the road, and the whoosh of cars as they rushed by. It's hazy, distant; almost unreal.

I remember that I was bobbing my head to the song playing in my right earphone, my eyes fixated on the little red man who, I didn't realise at the time, was there to save our lives. It was a daily routine. I'd leave late from track club at school. Then I'd train it home, listening to my favourite songs. They'd change every week.

But that one day broke my routine.

While I was staring up, in my own world of music, something brushed past my leg. Blonde, small, chubby. Big, innocent eyes and a round face. The face of an angel, maybe. I watched as the child, probably no older than four or five, push past the crowd towards the busy road. _Where is his mother?_ I thought, but all the adults surrounding me were too busy scrolling through twitter or talking on their phones to realise if their child had gone missing.

I'd glanced back at the boy, thinking someone had the decency to stop him. But he'd pushed on, right to the front of the group, ready to venture out onto an open road.

My stomach had dropped.

I lurched forward, seeing if I could nab the back of his shirt and pull him to safety, but he'd lurched away, as if he knew I was going to stop him. People grunted avertedly as I knocked into them, pushing past them to grab the boy. I apologised, millions of times it seemed, but all that mattered was trying to stop the child on his wild venture.

I managed to make it to the front, not without being glared at several times—but oh, why did no one notice the boy? He was already tramping across the bitumen, oblivious to the oncoming traffic. "Stop!" I screamed at him, but he had his mind elsewhere.

A terrifying feeling rose in my chest, the next car closing in, unaware of the small child meandering across their path.

I had dropped my things, my mind clicking. The child wouldn't move out of the way fast enough, at the rate he was going. The car wouldn't stop because they couldn't see the child. But if I acted fast enough, I could pull him out of the way and save him.

My feet hit the pavement as I threw myself forward; though my muscles groaned from track practice this afternoon, an extra rush of adrenalin came through me, giving me almost superhuman-like energy. I stumbled in front of the car, pushing the kid onto the opposite side of the road, him falling just at the curb. That's okay. That's safe. Anywhere but here is safe.

Distracted as I watched the people suddenly wake up from their technology-induced comas to help the boy, I go to run out of the way of the traffic as well. But the rush of the moment, my lack of concentration on what I was doing, caused the top of my right foot to hook into the back of my other leg.

And I fell.

I'd calculated I would have enough time to push the boy out of the way and be safe. But I didn't calculate the chances if something were to go wrong. The look of horror on the waiting pedestrians' faces told me the chances anyway. I had no chance. None at all.

Even the boy had stopped crying, his periwinkle eyes widening to watch; watch as I was squashed like a pancake on the road, watch the last time I would breathe. It was my award for preventing a death—the award was my death instead.

So I died loathing everyone.

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><p>.<p>

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_Timeless_

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><p>(cue the groaning) everyone: not another one, Piriluk.<p>

me: /cries I am disappoint of a my family.

(really, I just want to post a million unfinished fanfictions on here because I'm terrible and a hypocrite ha h a.)

yes, so, last night, I had a dream. it was a confusing dream. but it was deeply inspirational. yes. it gave me the idea for this. and this? idk what will become of it. like a lot of the things I post, I know nothing (except Caligo, which is legitimately the only one I've really planned out properly). it's another Rin POV story. (I was working on a oneshot with Len's POV but I'm stuck. and I was totally going to post it as a belated christmas/birthday thing but idek anymore.)

I want to cry and also die because my mum i s bugging me to call this place regarding a job but I am the most socially inept person and want to curl up into a ball of nope I just hate these things fml I'd much rather send in a resume I JUST HATE. I AM. SO FCKING SHITTY. AT TALKING. I CAN'T SPEAK WITHOUT SOUNDING LIKE SOME FORM OF DEPRESSING DORKERY. /shakes fist why

anyway. please? review? or not because you're all rude. (I jk, but maybe I don't.) or if you're not going to review this, GO REVIEW CALIGO OR SOMETHING


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